national theatre, cairo

unpublicized, unknown
they will no longer
bow to you
(those greats
of an age
expired)
for the twisted
memory does not
bow down.
a gesture, a
curse, on the
patterned gravel
(knowing
of your existence
is a must)
in the spectacle
arena
of the street.
"barter my soul for a
penny
of your time"
(said
the first
to the second)
"know my insides out
for a
penny of your time."
oh the stabbing
silhouette
knows no limits
(says
the image
to its counterpart)
knowing the
beauty of a moment:
where the late sun scatters pledges.
we will not forget you
national theater,
ancient greats,
(mourning
the blazing
loss).
oh no,
we will not forget you.

osamadawod.com

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